


The Great Healer

by SottoVoceSong



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But we'll get there, Canon Compliant, F/M, Finn and Rose Get a Story They're Worthy Of, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Rating May Change, Rey and Ben Get the Ending They Deserve, Slow Burn, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SottoVoceSong/pseuds/SottoVoceSong
Summary: The war is over, and the galaxy is at peace. Yet, finally free from the fight, our heroes find themselves pulled in different directions. Poe is preoccupied with the immense task of righting the wrongs committed by the First Order, Rey is nursing a deep wound invisible to everybody except her, and Finn is left to forge his own path.Two years later, the cracks in their friendship present a grave threat to the peace, and if he is to prevent the galaxy from being thrust into darkness once again, Finn must enlist help from the most unlikely places...
Relationships: Finn/Rose Tico, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 39
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking up this fic for over a year, writing bits here and there, but haven't found the guts to post until now. With the absolute state of Star Wars at the moment, I feel driven by rage and disappointment to fix everything I hate about this franchise, so here we are!
> 
> At the moment, I don't envision this work containing anything too dark, but Rey is working through some painful stuff and it's going to get messy for her. No squeaky clean Reys here. Also, Finn and Rose were done incredibly dirty in the last film, and I want to remedy that. Accordingly, this work spends a lot of time with these characters, especially Finn. Please excuse him if he's not as good to Rose as he should be to begin with - I'm just trying to follow what was laid out in canon.
> 
> Finally, we are in this for the long haul - thanks to TROS, these characters have got a lot of work to do before they get their happy endings - but happy endings are on their way for everybody. It's what they deserve.
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sottovocesong) and [Tumblr](https://sottovocesong.tumblr.com/) <3  
> 

* * *

Soft fingertips on his cheeks, his forehead. A voice that felt like home telling him – no, promising him… promising what? The words danced at the edge of his memory, but try as he might, he could not recall anything but the serene warmth of somebody who loved him. He was safe, and he was home, and that was all he knew. Comforted, he let the darkness take him.

\---

The descent to Coruscant was his best yet, and – noticing the huddle of pilots wasting time around the landing bays, sharing jokes over a cup of caf between shifts – he silently thanked the Force. He held up a hand in greeting as he passed, trying to act like landing an RZ-3 A-wing was a regular occurrence for him. In truth, he had less than forty hours of flight time in the damn thing.

Supposedly, as soon as Poe heard that Finn was flying these days, he had ordered the starfighter allocated for his personal use immediately. Finn wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a joke. A-wings were notoriously difficult to fly, of course, and he was sure Poe expected him to crash the starfighter at the first opportunity. Then again, he didn't think the Alliance had that kind of money to spare, so perhaps it was Poe's genuine idea of a gift after all. Either way, Finn had his own tricks up his sleeve that would ensure the starfighter arrived at the galactic capital in one piece.

Finn took his first real look at the planet he would be staying on indefinitely. He had never set foot on Coruscant before, though the sprawling network of cities had been established as the headquarters of the New Alliance in 2 ASI.

Following the destruction of Hosnian Prime, the galaxy had been rudderless. The Resistance had been in no position to establish a planetary stronghold after the Battle of Crait, and the First Order's mobile capital had been reduced to a scavenger's playground in the Outer Rim. The absence of governance following the Battle of Exegol left the people of the galaxy teetering on the edge of chaos, and so, in the scramble to establish a capital for the new governing body, Coruscant (what with its strategic location, its diverse population, and most importantly, its existing infrastructure primed to receive an embryonic government) was the natural choice. Some had reservations about establishing the Alliance on a planet which had seen countless empires rise and fall throughout its long history. Superstition dictated that any government built upon that world was doomed to fail, but truthfully, they had had little choice.

Once upon a time, Finn might have been enthralled by the glittering spires that stretched as far as the eye could see. Perhaps he would have envisioned freedom in the glass and durasteel shapes of Coruscant, imagined forging a new life in the city, untethered from any cause. _Live free, don't join._ That's what DJ had told him, wasn't it? Years later, Finn huffed a bittersweet smile at the sentiment and wondered how the treacherous bastard was coping in this new world. In spite of everything, Finn found that he wished him well.

Yes, once upon a time, Finn might have loved Coruscant, but after all of the places he'd seen? All of the natural bounty that the galaxy had to offer? Well, this hunk of rock – devoid of life as it was – couldn't compare.

\---

Finn did not recognise any of the people he crossed paths with on his journey to the presidential offices, but he sensed that plenty of them recognised him. Eyes lingered a little too long, conversations stopped dead in their tracks as he passed. In the turbolift up to the Houses of the Alliance, his fellow passengers exchanged looks with one another and fidgeted where they stood, as though debating whether to say something.

The attention was uncomfortable, and something he wasn't used to. During his travels, he had visited places hardly touched by the war; where 'Finn, the First Order defector' was nothing more than an inconsequential rumour mentioned once upon a time at a market stall. For two years, Finn had lived fairly anonymously, but now he found himself feeling self-conscious. He couldn't help wondering what they thought of him, whether he matched up to their expectations. After all, it had been quite some time since he'd walked amongst his associates, and perhaps he looked as different as he felt.

His fingers wandered involuntarily to the weapon tucked into a holster at his thigh, hidden from view by the trench coat he had procured in Salis D'aar. It was a nervous habit he had picked up in moments of self-doubt, something that reminded him of who he was when he started to lose sight of himself. The weapon would remain his secret for a little while longer, but that was alright because _he_ knew it was there. He knew what it meant.

Encouraged by the thought, Finn stood up a little straighter as he arrived at his destination.

\---

From the outside, the Houses of the Alliance were like the rest of Coruscant – sterile and _shiny._ Built upon the shell of the old Senate Office Building, it was just another angular structure on the skyline, perched like a pyramid atop the bulbous shape of the Galactic Republic era building. From the inside, it was a different story.

The main lobby was a breath-taking affair. Before him, three walls of glass and ferrocrete offices stretched towards the stars, climbing inwards until they tapered into a wide opening. From there, torrents of water poured through, falling in sheets into a vast pool flanked by turbolifts on each side. Behind him, a wall of glass reached the height of the pyramid, crisscrossed by enormous steel beams. Lush foliage wove itself between them like a tapestry, the glossy leaves of jungle vegetation forming a canopy which cast the late afternoon sun in a dappled light across the lobby. Everywhere, mossy vines and pristine white flora dripped from the structure, providing some much-needed greenery on a planet that was otherwise bereft of it. It was an industrial jungle – reminiscent of Ajan Kloss – and he decided he liked it.

He descended the steps towards the hefty ferrocrete reception desk which took pride of place between the waterfall and the main turbolifts. Working hours were over, and the lobby was relatively quiet save for a handful of personnel milling around the waterfall. At the desk, an AD-5T droid waited diligently to receive guests, and Finn could hear its VerboBrain whir as he approached.

'How may I help you today?' it intoned.

'I'm here to see General Poe Dameron, he's expecting me,' Finn offered, leaning his forearms on the ferrocrete. 'The name's Finn.'

'Surname, please.'

'Not yet,' he shrugged, trying not to linger on the thought any longer than necessary.

The droid input the information. 'Error. Secretary Dameron has finished his appointments for the day.'

Finn frowned. 'Secretary? Look, just let him know I'm here, he'll want to see me.'

The droid whirred. 'Error. It is against my programming to perform favours, but it is possible to offer you an appointment in twenty two days. Would you like to proceed?'

'Twenty two days?! Listen, I've travelled a long way to be here today. I know you have your protocols–

'Programming.'

'Programming. Right,' he paused. 'Does it matter?! If you would just–'

'Finn? Is that you, buddy?'

Finn looked up to find the owner of the voice – surprisingly difficult over the roar of the waterfall – and there he was, exiting one of the turbolifts on the left hand side of the lobby, accompanied by a small group of envoys.

'Poe', he breathed. He couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face as he began marching towards the man that changed the course of his life. Poe matched his pace and before long they were jogging towards one another, snickering like children. When he was finally within touching distance, he didn't even think before throwing his arms around his oldest friend with such force that he nearly knocked them both into the pool. They hooted with laughter as they struggled to regain their balance, finally stepping away to get a good look at one another.

Poe let out a low whistle. 'Well, look at you.'

Finn made a show of posing like one of the fashion models he had seen on the HoloNet, twirling this way and that, much to Poe's amusement. He knew two years away looked good on him, but he wasn't sure he could say the same of his friend.

Time had caught up with Poe. His dark curls were flecked with grey, and he would have pulled it off were it not for the general air of exhaustion which enveloped the man. Deep set worry lines were etched across his brow, his olive skin was dull and sallow, and it seemed like bruises had taken up permanent residence beneath his dark eyes. Perhaps Finn's surprise showed on his face, because Poe grimaced.

'I know,' he sighed. 'This job is… hard.'

Finn didn't know what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything at all, because at that moment, one of the Gran huddled next to the turbolifts chittered something in a language he did not understand.

'Sir, Kron Voe would like to know whether business is done for the day. They are keen to return to their accommodation,' C-3PO translated, appearing next to Poe seemingly from nowhere. 'Oh, Master Finn! It's been so long that I hardly recognised–'

'OK, let's wrap it up, 3PO. Our friends are waiting,' Poe stepped in front of the golden droid before he could start rambling. He turned to Finn. 'I need to finish up here. Do you have somewhere to be?'

Finn shook his head. 'I just got here, but–'

'OK, I'll send a droid to pick up your things and arrange a transport to my place. I'll meet you in an hour at–'

'Poe,' he interrupted, turning serious. 'Where's Rey?'

A shadow passed over Poe's face. He looked away from Finn and sighed.

'I'll meet you in an hour at the bar at the top of the complex. Open a tab in my name.'

With that, he clapped Finn on the shoulder, and hurried away to the waiting Gran with C-3PO in tow. Finn watched them descend into the belly of the old Senate Office Building, and then he was alone with his worry and the administrative droid at the desk, still waiting for his response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a short introduction, but we're laying the groundwork. I’ve tried to be as faithful to canon as possible, but I have taken some liberties to account for the passage of time and a changed galaxy unburdened by war.
> 
> [AD-4M](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/AD-4M)
> 
> [Ajan Kloss](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ajan_Kloss)
> 
> [Coruscant](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Coruscant)
> 
> [Galactic Republic](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Galactic_Republic)
> 
> [Gran](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Gran)
> 
> [RZ-2 A-wing](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/RZ-2_A-wing_interceptor)
> 
> [Salis D’aar](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Salis_D%27aar)
> 
> [Senate Office Building](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Imperial_Executive_Building)
> 
> [VerboBrain](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Verbobrain)
> 
> I envision the Houses of the Alliance as a [Louvre](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louvre)/[Changi](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jewel_Changi_Airport)/[Burj Al Arab](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burj_Al_Arab) hybrid, if that helps at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn and Poe pick up where they left off, but things aren't as easy as they remember. Poe is struggling in his new role, and old hurts are brought to the surface by their reunion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who commented/ bookmarked/gave kudos on the first chapter! I wasn’t expecting any response at all, so it was such a pleasant surprise.
> 
> We’re still only getting started here, and I’m not sure what the final chapter count will end up being, but I am taking my time with these characters. Bear with me!
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sottovocesong) and [Tumblr](https://sottovocesong.tumblr.com/) <3
> 
> **Content warning** : there are allusions to alcoholism in this chapter.  
> 

* * *

The Cloudflower was an elegant rooftop bar suspended atop the high-rise apartment building which Poe called home. It was spherical in shape, with an outdoor seating area that slowly revolved around the central bar space, offering patrons an ever-changing view of the Coruscant skyline. Inside, the vaulted ceiling was decked with strings of glowing lights that cast a warm, welcoming hue over the circular bar, staffed exclusively by Romins.

Though he had changed out of his trench coat and into more formal clothing, Finn felt out of place as he waited to be seated. Poe's servant droid had escorted Finn to a spacious room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the glittering cityscape, an adjoining fresher fashioned from Wayland marble, and the biggest bed that Finn had ever seen, covered with more pillows than one man could ever need. He was gobsmacked to discover that his luxurious room was just one of many in Poe's apartment.

Now that the thrill of seeing his old friend had worn off, it was clear that Poe's new life was a far cry from the sweat and grime of the jungle on Ajan Kloss, and Finn didn't know how to feel about that. The hotshot pilot who was permanently singed by blaster fire and smeared with engine grease was the only version of Poe Dameron he had ever known, but Finn could not find that man amongst the extravagance of this new world. Yes, he supposed two years had passed, but could Poe really have changed so much? Would Poe think the same of him? What else had changed that he hadn't noticed?

Suddenly, as he hovered by the turbolifts, those two years stretched before him and a gnawing dread settled in the pit of his stomach. His fists clenched and unclenched nervously as the host approached.

'Name, sir?'

'Uh, it's Finn. I don't have a booking, but I–'

'Finn!' The Romin's golden eyes lit up. 'Right this way, sir. Secretary Dameron is waiting for you.'

That surprised him. He had assumed he'd be the first to arrive. Nevertheless, he obediently followed the host to a table tucked against the edge of the revolving terrace, conspicuously isolated from the other clientele. Poe was slouched in his chair, the arms of his government uniform rolled up to his elbows as he contemplated the view with slightly glazed eyes. On the table sat two empty tumblers, the ice cubes still intact in both.

He looked up with a grin as Finn arrived, but didn't make any movement to stand up. 'Finn, buddy, you made it! Sit down, sit down.'

Finn slowly lowered himself into the seat opposite Poe, watching with confusion as the older man motioned to the empty glasses and requested two more from their host. The Romin bowed their head, and whisked the tumblers off the table and out of view. Finn turned his attention to his companion, who was beaming at him now.

'Did you have another appointment?' he inquired, still thinking about the empty glasses.

'What?' Poe frowned, then shook his head with a lighthearted laugh. 'No! Nothing booked tonight, I'm all yours.'

Finn quickly put two and two together, and his heart sank. 'Right.'

There was a long pause as they stared at one another across the table. Now that he knew, it was obvious that Poe had been drinking. His eyes were shining, his smile was easy, and the heaviness that he had been carrying when they met earlier appeared to have lifted.

The former general was still looking at him expectantly, but all of a sudden, Finn was at a loss for words. Everything he had planned to ask suddenly seemed secondary to the matter at hand. Finally, Poe threw his arms out.

'Is that it?' He was smiling, but his brow was furrowed. 'We haven't seen each other in two years, and you've got nothing to say?'

Finn remained silent, caught entirely off guard by the situation. Poe huffed, and leaned forward on his elbows. 'You know, when you told me you were going with Lando and Jannah, I thought you'd be gone for a couple of months at the most, and I get it. I do. You had things you needed to do, but when six months had passed and there was still no sign of you…'

He trailed off, then pressed his lips together as though he had thought better of whatever he was going to say. 'Everything started moving at once, and before I know it, I'm a Secretary of State attempting to fix the galaxy between 09:00 and 18:00 hours, and trying not to think about it the rest of the time. All the while, I'm receiving what are essentially vacation holos from you which, by the way, had to be diverted from Ajan Kloss every time – did you really think we'd still be stationed on Ajan Kloss? Anyway, two years later, I finally receive word that Finn is coming home, but apparently you're flying now, and then you turn up looking like this, and everything about you seems different.'

His expression softened and he leaned back slightly. 'But then you open your mouth and it's like nothing has changed. It doesn't seem to matter how much time has passed, there's only ever one thing you want to know.'

_Where's Rey?_ The unspoken words hung in the air between them, and Finn prickled at what Poe was implying. Anger flared in his chest and his cheeks started to burn, but he bit his tongue to avoid escalating the situation. No, that wouldn't help anything. Instead, he swallowed, gathering his thoughts as their host returned with two glasses of Tevraki whiskey on the rocks. Finn took a moment to let the emotions wash over him like a wave – anger, guilt, frustration, resentment - and then, he let them go. He took a sip of whiskey for courage – noticing that Poe had already taken a swig of his – then set the tumbler down resolutely.

'Poe, I'll be honest with you. I underestimated what you would be dealing with when I left. I can see that now, and I'm sorry.'

He paused meaningfully, meeting Poe's eyes so that he might see the truth in what Finn was saying. 'But this wasn't a vacation. I didn't go with Lando and Jannah for the hell of it. You have to understand – I was raised on a Star Destroyer. I don't remember anything before those metal walls. Hell, I didn't even have a name until _you_ gave me one. Sure, I got out, but I didn't even have a chance to start living before I was thrown right back in on the other side.'

He leaned in, imploring Poe to understand. 'Before I left, all I had ever known was war. I didn't know what it was like just to _live_ in this galaxy – to eat for pleasure rather than sustenance, to swim in the ocean just because I could, to fly amongst the stars without worrying about a fighter on my tail…'

Finn looked down at his hands, balled into fists in his lap, and his voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again. 'I left to find out who I was.'

Now, it was the other man's turn to be silent. Finn watched his words wash over Poe, the weariness from earlier closing in on him once more. He ran a hand through his silver streaked hair, and sighed.

'Goddammit.' Poe stared disdainfully at the half empty tumbler on the table. 'I'm the one who should be saying sorry. I shouldn't have been drinking, but the truth is I don't know what else to do with myself these days. When you asked about Rey, I panicked, and I thought a drink would make this easier. Of course, all it did was make things worse, as usual.'

He glowered into his whiskey, and Finn felt a rush of concern for his friend. Any feelings of animosity between the two men evaporated as quickly as they had arrived. 'Do you come here every night, Poe?'

'Not every night.' He let out a long exhale. 'Too often though. Leia made this look as easy as breathing, but I feel like I'm completely out of my depth.'

He picked up the whiskey and swirled the ice cubes round and round the glass as he continued, 'When the New Republic was destroyed, I was just a pilot. A _great_ pilot, but still just a pilot. I didn't know anything about treaties or diplomacy or half of the stuff I'm dealing with these days. I just knew how to follow orders, and I couldn't even manage that half the time.' He winced. 'Remember when I wiped out our entire bombing fleet?'

Finn grimaced. 'Not sure I want to.'

'After Hosnian Prime, I know Leia started preparing me for this. Sometimes, I feel like she knew what was going to happen – that she had it all planned out or something.' He shook his head and raised the tumbler to his lips. 'I don't think she ever even discussed it with me – though it's not like she had many options at the time.'

Finn mulled over Poe's words, taking in the exhausted form of the man. 'You're not happy. You don't want to do this?'

Poe groaned, turning his head to look out over the city lights. 'It's not as simple as that. I care about this work. I care so much, but no matter what we do, it feels like nothing ever changes. For every tiny step towards progress, we're taking two steps back. Every vote towards a fair galaxy is answered by a vote against it. I'm starting to wonder if what they say about Coruscant is true…'

'Don't say that,' Finn said sharply, leaning across the table. 'What you're trying to do here isn't impossible.'

'Isn't it?' Poe countered. 'Has any government in the history of the galaxy ever actually achieved what we're trying to do?'

Finn thought for a second. 'The Galactic Republic? There was peace for almost a millennium.'

'They had the Jedi Order,' Poe said pointedly. 'And besides, even the Galactic Republic fell in the end. Ultimately, you can't contend with greed, and I'm not just talking about the Hutts and the Palpatines of the galaxy.'

He gestured at the patrons sipping cocktails in their finery, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. 'I mean, look at how these people live! You saw the apartment they gave me – that place could home three families! Politicians get a nice cushy life, sitting pretty in Coruscant and acting like we're helping people, but who are we really helping? Slavery has been outlawed for years, but it's still happening right now, right under our noses.'

He was visibly angry now. 'Half of these people have more money than anybody could ever need, but if there's an opportunity to get something for free? They'll take it every time.'

He downed the rest of his whiskey and set the tumbler down with a little too much force. Finn, thoroughly disheartened by Poe's tirade, did the same. Listening to Poe, he was reminded of a young woman with burning eyes and hair that just wouldn't stay flat.

'You sound like Rose,' he smiled. 'Where's she at these days?'

Poe laughed. 'Rose is a thorn in my side. She's part of an activist organisation campaigning for citizens who were displaced by the war. They protest outside the Houses of the Alliance every other week and make our lives hell.' He glanced around the terrace. 'I'm not _officially_ allowed to support them, but between you and me?' He grinned. 'I'm glad. People like her are the only ones holding the Alliance accountable.'

Finn couldn't say he was surprised. Rose had a brilliant mind, but now the war was over, her passion for social justice would have been wasted in the Engineering Corps. He was glad she was putting it to good use.

He hesitated, debating whether he should say it. They'd been working up to this moment all evening. 'And Rey?'

Poe grimaced. He summoned their host with a wave of his hand and ordered another round. Finn's heart was in his throat. 'What is it? What's wrong? Is she okay?'

'Rey…' Poe sighed. 'Ever since the war ended, something's been different. I don't know what happened – you were always closer to her than I was – but it's like she can't find the energy to care about a damn thing anymore. We used to argue about the littlest things, and it drove me crazy at the time, but now? I don't know – if she told me to go eat bantha crap, I'd probably laugh. At least, she'd be feeling _something,_ you know?'

Finn was dismayed. It was worse than he thought. All at once, the words came tumbling out. 'You were right. I should have come back sooner. I knew something was wrong when I left, and when she stopped replying to my holos, I wanted to go, but Jannah told me…' He paused to breathe. 'She said "You can't put your life on hold for somebody else, Finn. Sometimes, you have to be selfish." And I was! I was selfish.'

Poe's eyes widened. 'No, no, no, no, Finn, you–' He stopped mid-sentence. 'Goddammit.' He paused to take a gulp out of one of the freshly filled glasses on the table.

'Listen, what I said earlier… I wasn't thinking, I let my emotions get ahead of me.' He reached across the table to touch Finn's arm. 'I shouldn't have said any of that. Your friendship with Rey was something else, I know that.' He paused. 'But Jannah was right. I'm _glad_ you did something for you. At least one of us did.'

He sighed and slumped back in his chair. 'Whatever is going on with Rey, we'll get to the bottom of it. She won't even entertain the idea of a new Jedi Order right now, and I'm not going to pretend I know anything about that, so I've got her doing odd jobs for the Engineering Corps. I thought it might help if she had something to do.'

He shrugged self-consciously. 'I'll take you down there in the morning, and you can speak to her yourself. For now, let's raise a drink to you, buddy.' Poe tipped his glass in Finn's direction. 'To the new Finn.'

Finn winced – Poe didn't know the half of it – but reluctantly raised his glass to meet Poe's. They both took a long drink of the golden liquid, and Finn welcomed the distracting burn as it seared its way down his throat. They settled into an uneasy silence until, finally, Poe piped up.

'Hey, I heard it turned out that Lando is Jannah's dad. Is that true?'

Finn's heart sank. 'Yeah. Yeah, it's true,' he rasped.

Poe looked at him apprehensively. 'So… did you find your family, too?'

Finn stared into the bottom of his glass.

'No. No, I didn't.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, we’re catching up with Rey! I don’t want to make any promises in terms of update schedule, but I’m aiming to post roughly once a week.
> 
> [Cloudflower](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Cloudflower)
> 
> [Galactic Republic](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Galactic_Republic)
> 
> [Hutts](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Hutt)
> 
> [Romins](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Romin_\(species\))
> 
> [Tevraki whiskey](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Tevraki_whiskey)
> 
> [Wayland marble](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Wayland_marble)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn and Rey are reunited after years apart. Things appear to be going well, but Finn has a secret to share, and Rey isn't going to like it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everybody who read the last chapter! I'm so happy to have you along for the ride.
> 
> Sorry that this chapter took a while, but I wanted it to be perfect. It is longer than the last two, and things are starting to get angsty now. Can't wait to get into the meat of this fic!
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sottovocesong) and [Tumblr](https://sottovocesong.tumblr.com/) <3
> 
> **Content warning** : mentions of weight loss in this chapter.  
> 

* * *

Rey stepped back from the panel she had opened up on the TransIT-212 speeder bus in front of her. The repulsorlift engine had failed yesterday, dropping a busload of passengers onto the ferrocrete with a resounding crash – or so she had been told. Rey didn't need to know the particulars. She was just there to fix it.

She ran her fingers across the engine, assessing its condition. As far as she could see, it would be a simple job, as it invariably was on the capital. Communication between the repulsor coils and the controls had failed, probably after the speeder bus had been filled over capacity. She just needed to recalibrate the electromagnetic transponders that relayed signals between the cockpit and the coils. Rey tucked behind her ears the flyaway hairs that had fallen out of the slapdash bun she had assembled earlier that morning. She wiped her hands on her black jumpsuit, transferring the engine grease to where it couldn't be seen, then rolled up the sleeves and set to work immediately.

Rey knew that what she was doing was unnecessary. After the war, the New Alliance had invested heavily in developing droids, hoping to shrink the divide between the wealthy Core Worlds and the long forgotten Outer Rim Territories by establishing universal infrastructure across the galaxy. Using resources seized from the fallen First Order, new model class 2 droids were manufactured in their hundreds of thousands to build and maintain galaxywide transport networks, both on and off world. Efficient, affordable energy grids were constructed on every Alliance planet, along with unlimited access to the HoloNet.

It was a major ongoing operation, only made possible by the droids which (unlike flesh and blood labourers) could work indefinitely, without needing to stop for rest, sustenance, or any of the other things that make lifeforms substandard workers. Once every couple of days, the sentients overseeing the operations would perform a macro protocol on their divisions, in order to maintain compliance.

It was a highly efficient system, and one that many – including Rey – were not entirely comfortable with. However, when offered the choice between abusing the productivity of droids and letting children on backwater planets continue to endure hardship, objectors soon quietened down.

BB-8 was one of the lucky ones. Although he had been top of the range only three years ago, the industry boom that commenced once the Alliance had been formally instated quickly rendered him obsolete. With Poe stuck inside an office all day, he had little use for an astromech droid, and Rey had soon found herself with a permanent ball-shaped shadow. Poe said that he didn't mind, insisting that it was best for all of them, but Rey knew how much he loved that little droid. She knew that he had ordered BB-8 to stay with her for her benefit, probably imagining that he would be good company on long days alone in the capital. Truthfully, he had been right about that.

Rey hopped into the cockpit to test her handywork. The speeder bus lifted off the ground with nary a shudder – just what she thought. Satisfied, she turned off the engine, and climbed out of the vehicle, pausing to glance around the maintenance hangar before she returned to seal up the panel. It was empty of lifeforms, as she expected. Whenever Rey turned up, the supervisors always made a show of yawning and checking their chronometers before taking a suspiciously long break. She didn't need to perform a mind trick to know that Poe had instructed them to stay out of her way. Not that they needed an excuse. Rey had always got the distinct impression that they were afraid of her. Perhaps that was for the best.

Thus, her only company was the handful of engineering droids conducting routine maintenance on another bus in the next bay. The soft bleeps of their binary chatter and the whirring of their tools were the only sounds. Though the droids objected to her interfering in their work, it was against their programming to stop her, so they mostly left her to it, only interrupting to tidy up her inferior welding every now and again.

This was how Rey spent her days: waking late from a fitful night's sleep in her military bed, shuffling down to Engineering Corps to find unnecessary work to busy her mind with, walking the bowels of the city until she could barely keep her eyes open, and then dragging herself off to bed before starting all over again the next day. She subsisted on little more than ration bars, instant caf, and Corellian whiskey, unable to stomach anything else.

She kept her lightsaber holstered on her hip at all times, but she never found a need to use it. Occasionally, she ran through forms when she knew no one was watching, but it was hard to focus without the threat of an enemy looming over her. She felt redundant in this new world. After all, she was only good at three things: swinging a lightsaber around, fixing broken things, and waiting. There wasn't much use for a lightsaber in peacetimes, they had droids to fix everything these days, and now, there was nobody left to wait for. Everybody was accounted for, and she was alone, the last Jedi in a galaxy that didn't need them anymore.

BB-8 bleeped inquisitively from where he was hovering next to her toolkit, waking her from her reverie. She must have gotten lost in her thoughts. It happened with far too much regularity, so she was glad that BB-8 was the only one there to see her lose control of her emotions. She furiously blinked away the tears that were filling her eyes, and set about resecuring the panel she had removed to access the fault. Anything to keep her mind off the storm that constantly raged within her skull.

She was halfway through welding the metalwork together, imagining the engineering droids reprimanding her poor discipline later, when she heard a voice calling her name. It was a voice so warm and sincere in its joy that it made her heart ache.

Rey froze where she stood. BB-8 was squealing and chattering away excitedly next to her, but she hardly noticed. Her brain was screaming like the emergency sirens that sounded impending an attack by the First Order, but it wasn't an enemy approaching her now… so why did she feel like it was?

The voice called out again. Her breathing accelerated and her heart began pounding in her chest. She knew she should look up, throw her arms open, and smile, but she couldn't will her body to move. Why? Why couldn't she react?

Blood was roaring in her ears as a million ideas about how this was going to go ran through her head. Everything she hadn't said or done over the last two years rushed to the forefront of her mind. Intrusive thoughts volleyed from one side of her skull to the other.

_I've let him down. He'll be disappointed in me._

_I should run before it's too late._

_I can't do it. It's too much._

_I can't cope._

_It's too much._

_It's all ove–_

A warm hand wrapped around her own, and the anxiety raging through her body inexplicably lifted somewhat. She turned instinctively towards the soothing presence of the hand's owner and found herself looking into the eyes of her dearest friend.

'Finn' she gasped, not daring to believe that it was really him. His hair was longer now, falling in locs over his forehead, and he was sporting the faintest shadow of stubble around his lips. An oversized khaki trench coat curled around his form-fitting black shirt, and his tapered cargo pants were tucked into hefty combat boots at his ankles. Somehow, he looked more like himself than she could ever remember, and he looked _good_.

Finally, her body moved of its own accord, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace which he eagerly returned. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them back lest he realise how badly she had missed him. She didn't want him to see that. Not when he had so obviously thrived in her absence.

Reluctantly, she pulled back, and looked once more at the man standing before her. Only two years had passed, but he looked so much older somehow. Wiser _._ He was categorically different from the Finn she remembered – changed in a way that Rey couldn't quite put her finger on – but there, at the centre of his face, were the same kind eyes that she remembered from the frightened stormtrooper at Niima Outpost all those years ago. He was smiling gently, but those dark eyes were worried.

'Rey,' he sighed, looking down at her scrawny form. She crossed her arms self-consciously. 'What are we going to do with you?'

'I'm fine,' she replied mechanically, giving him the same stock response she used whenever Poe asked the same question. 'All the better now you're back.'

She was smiling, but her cheeks were straining. She didn't want to talk about her. She was keen to move on. 'Look at you, you look amazing! Where did you find all this? Tell me all about it! I want to hear about all of the places you've seen.'

His concerned expression wavered, as though he was warring with himself over whether he should push her. Eventually, he sighed, 'Alright, but don't think I'm going to drop this. We're talking about this later.'

Rey supposed that was the best she could hope for, so she packed up her tools and left the unfinished welding job for the droids to complete. She was sure they'd be more than happy to tidy up after her anyway.

\---

With some help from the Force, the three of them – Rey, Finn, and BB-8 – snuck past the security guards up to the rooftop where Rey liked to while away her afternoons from time to time. They shared her flask of caf as Finn recounted the tales from his time away.

He launched into a detailed report of his travels across the galaxy, from the grassy plains of Lothal to the crystal forests of Christophsis. He described the bioluminescent jungles of Felucia where wildlife flourished undisturbed, and he detailed the sights and smells of the Naboo markets where musicians played their instruments in the streets and painters sold their works under canopied stalls. He recounted the circular districts of Bakura's capital city, where tailors' boutiques lined the streets, vying for the attention of passers-by, and where he had bought his ensemble. Finally, he recalled the joyous moment when Lando and Jannah, each hoping beyond to hope to find their lost loved ones on Taris, realised that they had been right next to one another all along.

If they could have seen it beyond the skyscrapers which shot up in every direction, the sun would have been immediately overhead as he finished his story. They were swinging their legs over the side of the Engineering Corps building now, and the dregs of the caf were cold at the bottom of Rey's flask.

Rey had listened intently, asking all the right questions and prompting Finn for more in moments of silence, but now it was done, she was overwhelmed. Her heart was hurting from all of the emotions she was feeling: wonder for all that Finn had seen and done; jealousy that he had experienced so much while she had been stuck on this stupid rock; pride for how much he had grown since she last saw him; resentment that Jannah had a father who was alive and loved her; frustration that she had stayed here and wallowed in her grief; anxiety that Finn might have outgrown her; but, mostly, genuine happiness for her friend. At least, that's what she told herself.

'Wow, Finn, that's…' She paused to find the words. What was it?

As though he could sense the emotions rolling off her in waves, Finn put his hand on her arm. 'It's OK,' he smiled. 'You don't have to say anything. I know it's a lot to take in.'

Her cheeks burned in shame, as if she wasn't already feeling conflicted enough. The last thing she wanted was for Finn to feel sorry for her. 'I'm fine,' she said again, staring determinedly at her boots. 'I'm happy for you. Honestly, I am. It sounds like the trip of a lifetime. I know I stopped replying to your holos, and I'm sorry for that, and I know it doesn't look like it, but I _am_ happy for you–'

Finn squeezed her arm, stopping her ramble in its tracks and forcing her to look him in the eye. 'Rey, you're not fine. It's OK to admit that. I'm not mad that you stopped replying, I just want to help you.'

This was dangerous territory. She needed to change course now before it was too late. 'Did you find your family, Finn?'

It worked. He let go of her arm and looked away. 'No, I didn't find them. I think…' He swallowed, and his eyes were shining when he spoke again. 'I think they're gone.'

It wasn't the answer she was expecting, so she didn't anticipate the sick sense of relief that surged through her. It was only brief, but it left her reeling. She was a truly horrible friend. She knew how Finn was feeling better than anyone, and she couldn't even put her own feelings aside for a moment. Couldn't even be there for her only real friend.

'I'm sorry,' she choked out, but the words felt hollow in her mouth.

Finn didn't respond, and Rey couldn't muster the strength to say anything else, so they sat in awkward silence for a while, looking off in different directions.

'Well, at least we still have each other,' he finally stated. His voice was rough.

'Right. We have each other.'

Finn clicked his boots together over the side of the building, and he sounded excessively cheerful when he spoke again.

'Although I guess I'm the only one around here without a last name these days, huh?' He nudged her goodnaturedly, but Rey couldn't even attempt a smile.

'Last names are overrated,' she mumbled, then immediately bit her lip. Finn looked at her quizzically, and she wished she hadn't said anything.

'Overrated?' he probed. 'What are you talking about? You're a Skywalker now! It doesn't get better than that!'

Panic flared in her chest. She wanted to avoid this conversation; it could only end badly. 'I don't know. I don't want to talk about it.'

'Rey!' Finn all but shouted. 'After what you did, you deserve to feel like the hero you are. You should be celebrated!'

'It wasn't that simple. It's not like I did it alone.' She was getting agitated now, this was going too far.

Finn scoffed. 'Rey, you singlehandedly defeated Palp–'

'No, I didn't!'

Her voice was shrill and tight, and hush fell between them once more. Finn was agape, searching her tear-filled eyes with his own. BB-8 cooed softly from between them, and she cradled her head in her hands. 'It doesn't matter, I shouldn't have said anything.'

She counted the teardrops that fell from the end of her nose onto her thighs. Hesitantly, Finn reached out and rubbed small circles on her shoulder blade. 'Rey, we have to talk about this. I can't bear to see you hurting this way,' he said softly. He paused before speaking again. 'On Exegol… You were dead. I _felt_ you die, but then…'

His hand stopped moving. 'Someone was with you, weren't they? You lost somebody that day, didn't you?'

Rey said nothing. He was getting too close to a truth that she _wouldn't_ reveal. She _couldn't_ reveal it, lest she lose the only family she'd ever had. She was shaking now, and Finn must have interpreted her reaction as confirmation because he threw his arm around her, pulling her close.

'Why didn't you tell me? We could have helped you!' he implored. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing him to stop before things went too far.

'You couldn't,' she gritted out.

'Rey, everybody lost people in this war,' he reasoned gently, and something broke in Rey. Her vision flashed red, and before she could stop them, the words came tumbling forth.

'This was different, Finn! None of you have _any_ idea what this feels like!' she spat, shrugging his hand away. Her voice was like venom. 'None of you can imagine what I'm going through.'

It was true. For just over two years, Rey had nursed a gaping wound between her ribs that made eating difficult, breathing even harder, and sleeping near impossible. She ached near constantly, feeling the absence of _him_ wherever she went. She tried her best to exhaust her body and distract her mind – anything to suspend the all-consuming emptiness that devoured her – but, at the end of the day when her head hit the pillow, it was inescapable. She felt the lack of him everywhere.

To his credit, Finn did not retaliate. He was calm when he spoke, and somehow that infuriated her even more. 'Maybe you're right, but I can't help you unless you _talk_ to me, Rey. What are we dealing with here?'

Rey turned away. 'You wouldn't understand.'

'Maybe I would.'

His voice was quiet, and he sounded _nervous._ Intrigued, Rey looked back at him over her shoulder. He was worrying the bottom of his trench coat and avoiding her gaze. She waited.

'Remember that night after the end of the war?' he began slowly, still fiddling with his coat. 'You'd been locked away in your room for days. You wouldn't speak to anybody, you wouldn't eat, and we all thought it was just your way of coming to terms with the war. Then, one night, you finally came out…'

Rey swallowed. She knew the night he was talking about.

'We heard a commotion, and I thought something had happened so I came running. When I got there, the desk had been torn up with a lightsaber'–Rey cringed–'and you were gone. We were all coping in our own ways, so I figured you were just working stuff out… But as I was leaving, I noticed you'd put the Jedi texts in the trash.'

He paused, and looked at her meaningfully. She felt hot with shame and humiliation – it had been a very bad night.

'I didn't think you _really_ wanted them mashed up in the trash compactor so… I took them for safekeeping.' Rey's breathing stopped. 'I meant to give them back, but then weeks went by and you didn't mention them, so–'

'You took them with you,' she whispered, slowly rising to her feet. Finn gazed up at her apprehensively.

'Rey,' he breathed, standing up to join her and grasping her hands. His voice was bobbing with excitement when he spoke again. 'I'm a Jedi now, too.'

Rey felt as though she'd been punched. She shook her head, scrunching up her eyes and trying to make sense of what he'd said. 'What?'

'Well, after the war, you didn't seem like you were ready to train me so… I took it upon myself.' He grinned at her now, his expression full of hope. Rey stared at him impassively. 'Rey, you don't have to do this alone anymore. We can start a Jedi temple _together._ I'll help–'

'You trained _yourself?'_

He was smiling, but a frown started to form on his brow. 'Well, I watched you train under Leia for more than a year, so I knew a thing or two already,' he contended. 'I studied the books, I meditated every day, I practised combat with Jannah…'

He paused, deliberating. Then, he pulled his trench coat aside and, from a holster on his thigh, produced a beautiful silver weapon which glinted in the afternoon sun. Rey stared at it dully.

'I even made my own lightsaber.'

He was smiling brilliantly at her, visibly glowing with pride, but Rey couldn't breathe. How could she have been so _stupid?_ At once, she could see everything that she'd overlooked in her emotional stupor: the calm that had washed over her when he'd touched her; his diligence in managing his emotions when she had provoked him; the inexplicable sensation that he was _different_. He was ablaze in the Force, bright and warm and _light_ through and through. _How_ had she missed it?

She should have been ecstatic. She should have been overjoyed for her friend. She should have been showering him with praise. Instead, what came out was: 'So because you've read some books, you think that makes you a Jedi?'

Finn's smile faltered. 'What?'

She continued unthinkingly, 'You think because you've got a lightsaber, we're the same?'

He was dumbfounded. 'No, Rey, I don't think we're the same, but–'

'But you think you're a Jedi? You think that's all there is to it?'

Finn was glaring at her now. 'What else is there, Rey? Who's going to assess me? The Jedi Order was destroyed years ago. Kylo Ren murdered every single–'

'He _didn't_ ,' Rey snarled at him, her vision swimming. It had been so long since she had heard that name, and her reaction to it had been so visceral that she shocked even herself. She didn't want to hear it, _especially_ not like that _._ Blood pounded in her ears and bile rose in her throat, but she lifted her chin at Finn defiantly.

He took a step back, stunned by her outburst. She could see him processing what had happened, but he didn't seem angry or disgusted, and that confounded her. She waited with bated breath for him to argue back – to tell her that she was crazy – but he just stood there, studying her. Just when she thought he wasn't going to say anything, he opened his mouth and her world tilted on its axis.

'Rey, was it Kylo Ren who saved you? Was it Kylo Ren that you lost that day?'

Her blood ran cold. Finn had asked the questions with such gentleness, such care – he was the very image of the Jedi that she wished she could be – but, in that moment, she hated him. Somewhere in the depths of her fury, she _knew_ that was the only name that Finn had known him by. She _knew_ that he was trying to help, and she _knew_ that she should let him.

He stood before her, waiting patiently for her response, and she could feel the light radiating off him in waves. Finn was a good person. He would be an even better Jedi.

She made her choice.

'No,' she replied, and before he could say anything, she leapt from the side of the building. Pedestrians at street level gasped as she used the Force to buffer her landing before running into the crowds as fast as her legs would carry her. She didn't stop to see if Finn had followed her.

Up on the rooftop, Finn stood in stunned silence, staring at the spot where Rey had hit the ground. Onlookers craned their necks up to where he was looking over the edge, and he stepped back, speechless to reassure BB-8's panicked bleeps.

He carefully placed his lightsaber back in his holster before reaching into the inside pocket of his trench coat. From that safe spot, close to his heart, he produced the gift that he had intended to give to Rey.

He felt numb as he fumbled to open the golden locket. As he stared at the tiny painting of his face, to the left of two empty windows, he resisted the urge to throw it over the side after her.

There was something terribly wrong with Rey.

But he would make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive Rey for being absolutely vile to Finn - she's really going through it! I am very protective of Finn in this fic, so it was hard to write. More pain next time!
> 
> I'm roughly basing Rey's appearance off the concept art from the unreleased Duel of the Fates. Somebody made a Battlefront mod featuring the outfit I have in mind and you can view that [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/BattlefrontCaptures/comments/f5600d/duel_of_the_fates_rey_mod_by_dulana57/).
> 
> [Christophsis](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Christophsis)
> 
> [Chronometer](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chronometer)
> 
> [Class 2 droids](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Second_class_droid)
> 
> [Corellian whiskey](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Corellian_whiskey)
> 
> [Felucia](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Felucia)
> 
> [Lothal](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lothal)
> 
> [Macro protocol](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Macro_protocol)
> 
> [Naboo](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Naboo)
> 
> [Ration bars](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ration_bar)
> 
> [Repulsorlift engine](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Repulsorlift)
> 
> [Speeder bus](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Speeder_bus) \- I made up the model


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey seeks out guidance from an old friend, but gets more than she bargained for when she is faced with a relic from her past...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, but it's a _long_ one. Buckle up, because things are starting to happen.
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sottovocesong) and [Tumblr](https://sottovocesong.tumblr.com/) <3  
> 

* * *

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, weaving through the crowds of Coruscant like they weren't even there. The Force guided her, showing her obstacles before she reached them and aiding her feet in flight until she was a blur. She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to get away from Coruscant. Somewhere far, far away from Finn and Poe and everything that they represented.

Now that she had seen him – bathed in light, a beacon in the Force – she knew that she couldn't stay here. Now that she had seen what a Jedi _could_ be – what a Jedi _should_ be – she knew that she couldn't compare. As soon as the others saw that, she would be exposed for the fraud that she was. An impostor posing as a Jedi. She was an aberration. An anomaly. A product of unnatural meddling in the dark.

_Nobody_ could know the truth.

Rey had once told Finn that she was afraid no one knew her, but, at the time, it hadn't been strictly true. Throughout everything, _he_ had been there. _He_ had understood her like no one else ever could, because he, too, knew what it was to feel the creep of the dark. To feel the weight of a doomed bloodline on your shoulders. To feel that destiny was branded into your very bones.

She once thought she had known loneliness, crouched in the darkness of a hollowed-out Star Destroyer, nursing a broken arm and an empty stomach, and waiting for the flesh-flaying winds of the X'us'R'iia to pass. For three days, she had blinked away tears in that sightless gloom, clutching her injured humerus and whispering words of comfort to herself, trying desperately to believe in them. At one point, she was sure that the groaning heap of corroding metalwork would collapse on top of her, and for a fleeting moment, she had wished that it would.

In the end, the storms passed – as they always did – and she survived. No matter how bad things got, Rey had _always_ survived, propelled ever forwards by some unfathomable instinct to _live._ Some supernatural sense that better things were waiting for her somewhere beyond the storm clouds. She supposed now that it had been him all along – the other half of her soul singing to her from the unknown.

But now, he was gone. Now, she knew loneliness.

There was too much at stake. She had taken her eye off the ball, and she would suffer the consequences. She thought she could hide her secrets, perhaps indefinitely, but circumstances had changed. Finn was strong with the Force – that much was obvious. What would happen when he detected the darkness in her? What would happen when he saw the evil that was burned into her very DNA?

Once upon a time, she would have given anything to know her family. Now, the truth of her heritage was a curse she wished she could forget. Her bloodline had already cost her everything – robbed her of her happy ending when it was finally in reach. She had already lost _him;_ she didn't think she could bear to lose Finn as well. To be cast out by the only real family she ever had would destroy her. She couldn't risk it. She couldn't lose him like that.

She couldn't lose him like that, so she would lose him on her own terms. He could take it; she knew he could. Finn was a pillar of strength – perhaps the strongest person she knew. He'd been taken from his family, indoctrinated and abused, raised to fight for a cause he didn't believe in, but he had _still_ found the courage to get out. He had been presented with so many opportunities to run in the opposite direction, but ultimately, he had chosen to stay and fight for the right thing every time. Anybody in his shoes could have given in to resentment and hatred, and nobody would have blamed them. But Finn was _good._ Even as she had said unspeakable things, _wanting_ to wound him with her words, the dark couldn't touch him. He actively repelled it – and that was why she had to leave.

Maybe he wouldn't understand at first. Maybe it would hurt him for a while, but in time, he would accept it. In time, he would forget her.

\---

She tugged on the sheet which had been covering the Falcon, letting it billow to the ground in one swift movement. She had been storing it in the disused hangar that the Alliance had put aside for her use – perhaps they expected it might one day be home to a new Jedi fleet, or perhaps they just wanted the piece of junk tucked away somewhere it wouldn't be seen – but she had kept the ship in good repair. In fact, the Falcon was probably in the best condition it had ever been in the years Rey had been flying it.

Fixing up the ancient freighter had been another project of hers – something to work on when the Engineering Corps had nothing to offer her – but she hadn't expected to fly it again. Although Rey had inherited the vessel (mostly because nobody else wanted it), she never really felt like it was _hers_. It reminded her too much of a grizzly old man with creases around his eyes: symbols of a life marked by joy and pain. It conjured up too many imaginings of a toddler with a mess of black hair tearing around the place, a beautiful future still stretched out before him. She had offered it to Chewbacca before he had returned to Kashyyyk, but he had refused, enveloping her in a rare embrace. He didn't offer an explanation, but she imagined that whatever feelings she had about the Falcon, Chewie's were more painful still.

Thus, it was with a heavy heart that Rey boarded the Corellian YT model freighter now. She stowed the meagre belongings she owned – a cloak, her blaster, _his_ sweater – snatched up from her military bedroom without so much as a backward glance, then made her way to the cockpit. The ship was not designed to be flown by a single pilot, but Rey had piloted the Falcon alone more often than not. She had managed before, and she would manage now.

She ran her pre-flight checks, initiated the launch sequence, then fired up the engines, pleased to hear them purr into life without a stutter. She switched on the comms to request clearance for take-off, then leaned back in the pilot chair. The skies over Coruscant were the busiest in the galaxy, and the volume of traffic to clear was astronomic on the best of days. She would be awaiting permission for some time, and that gave her plenty of time to think about her next steps.

Rey didn't have anywhere to fly home to. The closest thing she had to a home was an AT-AT in the Jakku desert, but if she never returned to that junkyard again, it would be too soon. Her parents were born and raised on Exegol, but even Jakku seemed like a pleasant, wholesome place next to Exegol. She had spent a year on Ajan Kloss, and she had liked it there at first. The planet was verdant and peaceful – the polar opposite to Jakku – but even that lush jungle had eventually become yet another place associated with violence and despair. After the war, she had returned to Ajan Kloss a changed person and it had never seemed the same again. Of course, Leia had died there, too.

So where could she go? She supposed that she could try one of the planets that Finn had mentioned. Naboo sounded _wonderful,_ but then again, she had no credits save for the modest allowance afforded her by the Alliance. She doubted her paltry fortune would go far in a place like Naboo, and considering the circumstances under which she was leaving, she could hardly invoke her status as a war hero. No, she needed a contact. A free agent.

_Maz,_ her brain supplied. She chewed her lip as she considered it.

Did she really want to go back to Takodana? She cast her mind back to that fateful day: the day she had met Finn, and Han, and _him._ Before she had understood the Force, she had thought it was destiny that led her to Takodana that day. When she touched the Skywalker saber, it had set an unstoppable chain of events into action. At the time, Rey simply couldn't believe that she had some part to play in the story. She had denied it, turned away from the part of her that roared to life when her fingers made contact with the lightsaber. Now, of course, she knew better. Now, she understood that it was her first step on the preordained path laid out for her by the universe. It was the Force. It was _always_ the Force.

These days, it had been a long time since she'd felt the inexorable pull of the Force, willing events into action. Master Skywalker had been wrong about a lot of things on Ahch-To, but on one thing, he had been absolutely right: the Force was not a weapon that Rey wielded. Rather, it was the other way around. The Jedi were merely vessels for the Force to enact its will, and it was only in the dark depths of Exegol that she had truly come to understand Master Skywalker's first lesson. She had given herself freely to the Force – channelling it through her crude being, trusting its will implicitly – and it had rewarded her by ripping out half of her soul.

Needless to say, she didn't place much faith in the Force these days. _I'll always be with you,_ he had told her, but she hadn't heard a whisper out of him. Out of _any_ of them for that matter. To Rey, it felt like the Force had used her to complete its grand design, then disappeared entirely. Perhaps she was listening too hard, or perhaps it had given up on her completely – decided Finn was a better candidate these days.

Whatever the answer, it seemed like the Force had withdrawn from Rey in the moment she needed it the most. _And yet–_

–as though it had sensed her distress, the atoms around Rey began to vibrate. The comms crackled to life. A disembodied voice gave her permission for take-off, and her thirty second departure window began its countdown.

'It's now or never,' she deliberated out loud. She didn't have to leave. She could turn off the engine and go back. She could apologise to Finn. She could tell him the truth. _Confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi_ …

But perhaps the Force wasn't done with her yet. She eased the throttle forward and pulled back on the control yoke. Takodana it was.

\---

Takodana Castle was still a work in progress. After it had been destroyed by the First Order in 0 ASI, Maz had been in no rush to rebuild. It wasn't good business to start the process of reconstruction in the middle of a galactic war, so she had joined the fight instead, taking up the role of advisor to General Leia Organa. Some time after the Battle of Exegol, Maz had returned to Takodana in the hopes of restoring her once renowned establishment. Long ago, the grounds around the castle had been the site of great battles between the Jedi and the Sith, and, as such, the New Alliance had an historical interest in the location. With their financial backing, work on carefully rebuilding the ancient fortress on the shores of Nymeve Lake could begin.

Rey found out all of this information from a dedicatory plaque at the front of the castle. Apparently, it had been assigned status as a 'Site of Historical Significance', citing not only the Jedi catacombs that lay beneath the fortress, but also its decisive role in the story of Rey Skywalker, the last of the Jedi.

She had turned away at that, pulling the hood of her cloak closer around her face. It seemed like Takodana might not be the escape she had been looking for. Her eyes wandered across the lake to the clearing where she had left the Falcon – the same place Han had landed it all those years ago – and, for a moment, she considered trying elsewhere. Then, she imagined the arduous procedure of clambering back aboard the ship, finding somewhere to refuel, and setting course for another planet. It would be another few days of sleepless hyperspace travel, and her body screamed at the prospect. It was already dusk on Takodana, and the fading light had a sedative effect after the white-blue blur of hyperspace.

Rey eyed the imposing towers dubiously. Silhouetted against the evening sky, the castle loomed over her ominously. It wasn't exactly a welcoming sight, but what awaited within was tempting. Traditionally, Maz had offered one free night of food, water, and shelter to travellers in need – provided they didn't bring trouble her way. Rey certainly wasn't looking for trouble, and her heavy limbs and groaning stomach couldn't resist the possibility of a warm bed and a proper meal. Besides, she had to admit that what was left of her heart had sang at the sight of the sprawling forests. She sighed, and reluctantly made her way inside.

It was quieter than the first time she had visited. She imagined that the shiny New Alliance plaque outside put off some of the less savoury characters, but it was still busy enough that Rey felt the need to keep her head down as she made her way to the bar. It looked much the same as it used to, owing, she supposed, to the restoration order that the Alliance had slapped on the place. A band played a downbeat tune in the corner, a hunk of meat was roasting over a roaring hearth, and rowdy patrons sat in gaggles around the tables, swapping stories and credits. Thankfully, most of them were too drunk to pay her any mind.

She knew that Maz had probably sensed her approaching, but perhaps it was obvious that Rey didn't want to be noticed, because the pirate queen did not draw attention to her arrival. She merely peered at the younger woman through those huge round lenses, handing her tray to a passing waiter as Rey came to an awkward stop in front of her. Maz appraised her shrewdly.

'You look more like a Sith than a Jedi in that get up,' she stated, gesturing to Rey's all black attire.

Rey cringed. Maz knew the Force too well to say something like that _completely_ in jest. Then again, perhaps she was reading into things, because suddenly Maz laughed and slapped her on the thigh. She motioned for Rey to follow her to a quiet table in the corner, ordering a plate of everything they had from the Devaronian pottering around the open kitchen on the way there.

For a long while, they sat in silence as Rey ate. She must have worked up an appetite during the excitement of the last few days, because after two years of surviving almost entirely on ration bars, she suddenly wanted to inhale everything in sight. Maybe it was the change in scenery, maybe it was the company, or maybe it was the food itself, but to her surprise, Rey found herself shovelling Takodana fare into her mouth with the voracity of a krayt dragon. She ate buttered bantha, flash-fried zuchii, grilled sisofish, and Ithorian garden loaf, all washed down with a cold cup of daro root beer. She would have preferred something stronger but didn't have the guts to ask. After all, Jedi probably weren't supposed to drink alcohol.

When Rey had finally eaten her fill, the wizened old woman leaned forward expectantly, cutting right to the chase with her line of questioning. 'Well? Why are you here?'

Rey avoided her gaze. Nothing good could come of looking Maz in the eye. 'Just a visit.'

Maz narrowed her eyes. 'When you've lived for a thousand years, it's easy to spot a liar.'

Suitably chastised, Rey turned her face down, cheeks burning in embarrassment. She didn't know why she had thought she could avoid having this conversation with Maz. If she was being honest with herself, it was the entire reason she'd come here. She desperately needed to talk to someone older and wiser. She needed someone who understood all of this to tell her what to do.

Rey looked – really looked – at the little woman. Her orange skin was wrinkled and fragile, and sparse white hair sprouted in wisps from the top of her head. She was the only one of her kind that Rey had ever met, and she knew nothing about Maz's species, but she thought that after a thousand years in this galaxy, the pirate queen was probably approaching her twilight years. However, nothing about her suggested weakness or frailty. Her expression was warm and open, but her eyes were bright and sharp. They were a dead giveaway for the fiery spirit that resided within her diminutive form, and they were searching Rey's face now.

'Many years ago, you came to this castle with your friend, Finn,' she began carefully. 'Back then, I told him that he had the eyes of someone who wanted to run.'

She tentatively reached out to touch Rey's hand.

'You have those same eyes now.'

Rey didn't react. She was not shocked or offended by Maz's observation – it was true, after all. She _was_ on the run. She bit her lip and stared down at the place where Maz's fingers were resting on her own.

'I have a secret,' she divulged. 'Lots of secrets, actually. Things I can't tell anyone.'

She swallowed, fighting back the tears that were already springing to her bloodshot eyes. 'But the weight of them is something I don't know how to carry,' she continued. 'Before… there was someone. Someone who understood, but now they're gone, and I'm alone.'

She looked up at Maz to gauge her reaction, but her expression was calm and unchanged. They could have been discussing the weather, for all anyone knew. She nodded encouragingly, and Rey pressed on.

'I have all this knowledge and experience, I'm supposed to know what to do,' she mumbled. 'Everyone expects me to start a new Jedi Order, but I can't do it. I feel like I'm barely holding on.'

Her voice dropped to a whisper. 'And I don't trust myself.'

She couldn't work up the nerve to say what she really meant. That her breathing was becoming more and more painful with every waking minute. That her connection to the light felt tenuous and shaky, like it might snap at any moment. That she was a fraud – _a Palpatine masquerading as a Skywalker_.

Still, Maz did not react to her confession with fear or disgust. During the millennium she had been alive, the pirate queen had seen generations of Jedi rise and fall. She had lived through the Clone Wars – had seen the Jedi overlook what was right under their noses. She was not trained in the Force, but she understood it instinctively. For Maz, the Force was not muddied by tradition and protocol the way it sometimes had been for the Jedi. In fact, she had been the first person to show Rey the Force. It had been a rudimentary lesson, but perhaps the most important one that Rey had learned – more important than anything in those dusty old books. The Force was an _instinct,_ and instinct was something that Rey was sorely lacking these days.

'You've lost your faith in the Force,' Maz said simply, and Rey did not deny it.

'Luke, Leia, Han…' She trailed off before she added _his_ name to the list. 'They're all gone because the Force required it. How am I supposed to make peace with so much death and suffering?'

'The will of the Force does not always make sense to our mortal minds,' Maz admitted. 'But, my child, no one is ever really gone. You must take courage from that.'

Rey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She hadn't come here to listen to meaningless platitudes. 'Then where are they? Why don't they answer me?'

'The light will always guide those who are listening.'

Rey pulled her hand away, bristling at the older woman's implication. 'I do _nothing_ but listen. For years, I've waited for a sign… a signal… _anything_ to guide me.' She faltered. 'But now that the Sith are gone, it's like the Force has abandoned me. I can feel it – the Force is always around me – but it doesn't flow _through_ me anymore. Not unless I bend it to my will.'

Maz's brows drew together imperceptibly. She chose her next words carefully. 'You feel alone and afraid.' She hesitated before she continued. 'But, my dear child, a Jedi who is shrouded in fear and anger cannot follow the light. Fear is the path to the da–'

'The dark side. I know.'

Maz regarded her thoughtfully, and her brown eyes were penetrating. Rey recoiled from the pity that shone there.

'Child, let the dead rest. Let them go,' Maz said softly. 'The light will guide you if you let it.'

Rey said nothing. She merely stared at the bottom of her cup, utterly shattered by the pirate queen's closing statement. She felt numb. If Maz didn't understand what she was going through, no one would. If Maz couldn't help her, no one could.

\---

Her accommodation was austere, fitted only with the bare necessities: a small but comfortable bed, basic refresher facilities, and a sizeable trunk for the temporary storage of personal items. Starlight fell in pale streaks through the tall, narrow windows which stretched the length of the outer wall, and the remnants of a fire were dying in a stone fireplace. Its embers cast long shadows against the cold flagstones. Normally, Rey wouldn't have minded, but she was feeling more afraid of the dark than usual. Thus, she wasted no time in lighting the simple oil lamp that was perched atop the ancient trunk. She threw another log on the fire for good measure, too.

Satisfied, she stripped out of her cloak and her jumpsuit, and changed into her night clothes. It was not summer on Takodana, and her pajamas were thin, so she pulled the sheets from the bed, too. She wrapped them around her to ward away the night's chill as she settled down by the window. It had been so long since she had looked upon nature, and she had missed it, even when it was shrouded in darkness as was the case now.

She leaned her head against the glass and sighed. Now that she was alone with her thoughts, far from the hustle and bustle of Coruscant, she felt the weight of everything that had happened. She cast her mind back over the events of the last few days, and found herself replaying her conversation with Finn over and over. In particular, she thought about that fateful night on Ajan Kloss. It had never seemed important before, but now, it was all she could think about.

After the war, she had been hurting, cleaved in two by the events that had transpired. Yet, she still had hope. She had to trust that everything – all of the unique losses she had suffered – was part of some greater design that would one day make sense to her. If a Force dyad was as rare and as powerful as her grandfather had said, she couldn't believe that _he_ was truly gone. So, she put her faith in the Force, and she waited. After all, she had spent so many years waiting. What were a few more?

Very quickly, however, Rey's plan went awry. After Exegol, she had listened for him, keeping her end of their bond open at all times. _I'll always be with you_ , he had said, and she had believed him. After all, he had never lied to her before. Yet, as time went on, Rey's old doubts started to creep in. She waited, but still, the other end of the bond remained cold and quiet.

It had only been a few weeks since Exegol when the panic began to set in, but it had felt like a lifetime to Rey. Thus, she decided to change tactics. Waiting for her parents on Jakku had not worked out, she concluded, so why would anything be different now? She decided that the Force was waiting for her to take a more proactive approach, so she gathered up the Jedi texts and she locked herself away. She studied the books until the words became meaningless symbols. She meditated until she could barely remember her own name. She reached out in the Force, further than she had ever achieved before, and then further still. She spent days in a trance-like state, navigating the planes of the Force in search of _anything_ that would lead her to him.

It was when she awoke, tears streaming down her face, that she heard that small voice at the back of her mind whisper the unthinkable.

_He's never coming back._

Even the memory of that dark night made her heart squeeze when she thought of it now. It was the evening that her faith in the Force had begun to waver. She had wrecked the place and left the Jedi texts to whatever fate befell them. Now, of course, she knew that Finn had rescued the books, but for two years, she believed that they had been compressed into a palm sized square and transported to some backwater planet for processing, never to be seen again. She hadn't even cared.

She gazed out at the black forest that swelled over the hills beyond the lake, and thought about what Maz had said. She knew that she had darkness in her, but she had always tried to resist it once she knew what it was. When lightning shot from her fingertips, she had been _afraid_ of the raw power that she had felt coursing through her limbs. When she had plunged a lightsaber into the torso of a broken man, she had felt neither satisfaction nor pleasure. She had simply felt shame and regret.

Yet, it seemed like time and time again, the dark came for Rey, and it was getting harder and harder to resist its call. She could feel it ebbing and flowing at the edges of her consciousness, inching ever closer like a rising tide. It whispered to her – made promises that the light couldn't – but the thing that scared her the most wasn't the dark itself.

It was that now it felt _good._

In the moments she let the dark settle into the cracks in her soul, the pain eased just a little. Enough that she could breathe again. Enough that she could think clearly for a moment. She told herself that it was just a coping mechanism – a way to keep her grief at bay so that she could survive – but now, amongst the shadows of Takodana Castle, she wasn't so sure. If the Force could just give her a sign, then she would hold out. It didn't have to be _him,_ but if _someone_ would just point her in the right direction, then she would find the strength to resist.

She just didn't know how much longer she could wait.

A quiet knock on the door snapped her out of her spiralling misery. She hastily wiped her tears away, and padded over to the repurposed blast door, hitting a button on the keypad to open it. It hissed open to reveal Maz, looking up at her with hesitant eyes. In her small orange hands was a hefty wooden chest that Rey had seen before. It had been battered and damaged since the last time she laid eyes on it, but it gave her the same sinking sensation that it had back then.

'May I come in?'

Rey wordlessly stepped aside to let the pirate queen by, then shut the door behind her. Maz made her way to foot of the bed, and carefully placed the box atop the large trunk there. She turned to Rey, but when she spoke, her voice lacked some of its usual resolve.

'Humans have such short lives, even when they make it to a ripe and full age for their species,' she began, looking at Rey meaningfully. 'I knew Han Solo for most of his adult life. The time I knew him was like the blink of an eye for one of my kind, and yet, his memory shines brighter than those of some I knew far longer.'

She sighed, and for a moment, her tiny frame seemed even smaller.

'He was not always a good man. He made many mistakes, and he was not always there for those who needed him.' She paused. 'Though I never met Ben Solo–'

Rey gasped, the air stolen from her lungs at the mention of his name. She had not said it herself in two years. Her knees grew weak, and she threw an arm against the wall to steady herself.

Maz waited for her to recover before she continued. 'Though I did not know Han's son, I do not believe that people are born good or evil.'

'As Kylo Ren, he did terrible things. _Terrible_ things...' She paused to appraise Rey. Satisfied with whatever she saw in Rey's face, she continued, 'But nobody is beyond redemption.'

She opened the box, and Rey's world came crashing down on her. Now, she really did sink to her knees, for there in Maz's curio box was the helmet that had haunted her dreams for as long as she could remember. It was perfectly preserved, exactly as she remembered it from the last time she had ever seen him wear it. Red fissures trickled like blood across the surface, and the silver mask glinted in the firelight. She couldn't look at it.

'I have collected objects that speak to me through the Force for as long as I can remember. Once, you retrieved the Skywalker saber from this very box. Now, the Force tells me that you must have this, too.'

She stepped forward and grasped Rey's hands in her own. 'I sense that you are connected to him in some way. I will never understand the Force the way a Jedi does, but I hope that this will make things right once and for all.' She gently lifted Rey's chin so that their eyes met. 'I believe that the Force will be with you now and always.'

She cupped Rey's face in her hands, and brushed a falling tear away with her thumb. Rey closed her eyes, savouring the rare physical contact which was over all too soon. Maz stepped away and made for the door. Before she left, she turned back towards the younger woman.

'Have faith, my child. The Force will guide you.'

The door slid closed behind her, and it felt like whatever fate awaited Rey had been sealed. It was quiet, save for the fire crackling away in the hearth. She felt like she should do something, but she was overwhelmed by the sinking sensation that everything was about to change. Rey turned and looked at the helmet that had once been so familiar to her. She supposed something would happen if she touched it, but found that she wasn't ready to see whatever the mask held in store. Not yet, at least.

Whatever the Force wanted to show her could wait, she decided. She extinguished the lamp, then gathered the bedsheets from the floor and clambered onto the soft mattress. She hadn't slept in a warm bed with a full stomach for far too long. She was going to savour it, and nothing could stop her. Not even the Force.

\---

_Rey._

Her eyes snapped open. She shot up in bed, bewildered for a moment by her surroundings. The room was in almost total darkness now, lit only by the weak light of far-off stars that flooded through the long windows. It had been so long since she'd slept anywhere other than her military bedroom on Coruscant that her brain struggled to make sense of the odd shapes and shadows in the unfamiliar room. She fixed her eyes on an indeterminate point in the blackness and waited for her vision to adjust, mentally willing her childish fear of the dark away as she gazed into the gloom.

She should have known better than to believe that she would sleep soundly. It had been years since she'd slept through the night, plagued as she was by nightmares and insomnia. She had been foolish to hope that a change of scenery would make any difference. Still, she wasn't used to being woken by ghostly whispers in the dark.

Rey roved her eyes across the room now, looking for the source of the voice. As she expected, she was alone, but the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. Things were eerily quiet. The air around her was heavy with the Force, practically crackling with foreboding, and she had the acute sense that events she could not control were in motion. The stage was set, and it was time for Rey to move.

Any traces of lingering drowsiness disappeared, and she was alert now. Reluctantly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, gasping a little when her feet touched the cold flagstones. Now that the fire had died, the room was chilly. She shivered and gathered the sheets around her shoulders, pulling them close as she padded over to the trunk. It loomed into view as she approached, and she stopped dead, stifling a gasp.

The chest – which Rey knew she had shut – was open.

Of course, she should have expected this. Hesitantly, she stepped closer, resisting the urge to avert her eyes from the silver mask that stared back at her. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and her ears were filled with static.

She knew that something would happen if she touched it, but found that she was terrified of the idea. She had spent so long imagining his face behind the mask that now she couldn't comprehend the idea of the mask without his face behind it. She had horrific ideas of lifting the helmet, only for his lifeless head to fall out the bottom of it. She imagined it rolling across the floor before coming to a stop at her feet, his cold, dead eyes staring blindly up at her.

She had been waiting for this moment for so long, but now that it had arrived, she was afraid of what the future held. In her experience, Force visions were tricky affairs – ambiguous and difficult to interpret. The weight of her next move felt crushing, but the Force was everywhere now, willing her forwards.

She blew out a long breath in an attempt to calm her nerves, then reached out.

Her fingers made contact with the cold metal–

–but nothing happened.

She was puzzled for a moment before the stomach-turning realisation set in. _She was supposed to put it on._

She shook her head and barked out a dry laugh. She should have learned to expect such sick practical jokes from the Force by now. She gathered her courage, swallowing down the bile that was rising in her throat, and lifted the helmet with both hands.

She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding when her worst nightmare didn't materialise. With renewed determination, she engaged the servomotor mechanism, and the mouth plate opened with a rasp that sent shivers – good and bad – down Rey's spine. She stared down at the mask, and it stared back at her. This was it.

She raised the helmet above her head and brought it down over her eyes.

_Her stomach lurched sideways as she was transported to a stormy ocean moon that she had seen before. The rain was coming down in droves, and enormous waves were battering the wreckage of the second Death Star. She was standing in the exact spot that she had left him all those years ago, but she was alone now. She cast her eyes this way and that, searching the ruins wildly, but there was no sign of anyone else._

_A cacophony of whispers from the depths of the ocean drew her gaze downwards, and she peered into the frothing grey water._

_There was a light at the bottom of the ocean. A familiar red glow was emanating from the deep, calling for her. Without thinking, she threw her hand out–_

– _and the vision shifted. She was on a desert planet – Jakku? Tatooine? Pasaana? – where the sunset had stained the sky blood red. Before her, a hulking mobile fortress rose out of the sand, the dunes around it littered with debris, but it was not moving. She ran towards it, faltering slightly as the debris came into clearer view. She carried on moving forwards, squinting at the approaching mess. It wasn't scrap metal or rock, like she had assumed. It was – just a little closer – bits of cloth or spare rags or–_

_She clapped her hand over her mouth. They were_ bodies _._

_There were tens of tiny bodies swaddled in brown cloaks strewn across the sand. She raced forwards, praying to the Force that they weren't children. Her eyes were streaming as she approached one of the tiny lifeless forms and threw herself to her knees beside it. She reached down to turn it over–_

– _and she was kneeling over_ his _dead body, sobbing as he faded into the Force before her very eyes. She screamed out–_

– _and she was nowhere. Her surroundings were shapeless and shadowy, but she could hear something. Somewhere in the gloom, a girl was crying._

_She tried to run towards the sound, but found that she was injured. She hobbled forwards as best she could, desperate to reach the familiar presence that she felt. It seemed she was making no progress, when suddenly, out of the shadows, the girl was there._

_But it was_ her _. She was looking at herself, and it seemed like the other Rey was looking back at her. There were tears running down her other self's face, but her eyes were wide and hopeful. Her fingertips were pressed against an invisible barrier, reaching out. Rey raised her hand, too, rushing forward with a strange desperation now. Their hands were almost touching, she just needed to reach a bit further–_

– _but the girl was gone. Rey was standing at the side of a burning lake. The air around her was thick with smoke, and the sky above was red and hazy, but there were saplings growing here. Young trees sprouted out of the charred landscape. This planet had once been dead, but now, there was new life here._

_She looked down into the still waters at her feet, and her heart stopped. It was_ him _. He was there below the surface, looking back at her now. He was wearing his helmet and his cloak – strange – but that didn't matter. She had finally found him, and now she would bring him back._

_She reached down, and he stretched his hand out towards hers. Down, down, until her fingers grasped the water – but he did not take her hand. Perplexed, she swiped at the water, reaching for him again and again until she realised with horror – it was not him. It was her reflection._

_She was Kylo Ren._

Rey ripped the helmet off, gasping for air as she blinked sweat and tears from her eyes. Her fingernails clawed at the flagstones for purchase, keen to find solid ground. She felt shaky and nauseous. The Force vision had been every bit as disturbing as she expected, but as she caught her breath, Rey felt a sense of renewed purpose rising within her.

She gathered the helmet in her arms, and rose to unsteady feet.

She couldn't spend another night in this castle.

Not now she knew where she was going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the next update will come a little bit sooner, but I am working on another fic which I'm posting on the 14th. However, stay tuned, because next time we're catching up with a certain someone!
> 
> [Bantha](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Bantha)
> 
> [Daro root beer](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Daro_root_beer)
> 
> [Devaronian](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Devaronian)
> 
> [Krayt dragon](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Krayt_dragon)
> 
> [Ithorian garden loaf](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ithorian_Garden_Loaf)
> 
> [Sisofish](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Sisofish)
> 
> [X’us’R’iia](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/X%27us%27R%27iia)
> 
> [Zuchii](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Zuchii)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Far away on the island of Ahch-To, a stranger awakes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos, as always! I've added a _very_ tentative chapter count which may change, and a new tag which covers some content in this update.
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sottovocesong) and [Tumblr](https://sottovocesong.tumblr.com/) <3  
> 

* * *

Alcida-Auka was awoken by a prickling sensation at the edge of her consciousness. It was still dark outside the hut, the night still and clear. There was no sound, save for the lapping of the waves on the rocks below and the gentle snores of her daughters. Still, she sensed that something was amiss.

She sat up in her bed and listened, not with her ears, but with her mind. The Lanai did not feel the Current in the way that visitors to their island did. They could not disappear into its flow nor use it to levitate rocks, but generations of Lanai had been born and raised on this very rock. They had evolved alongside the uneti trees that grew here, imbued with the very Current itself. No, they could not bend the Current to their will, but they could sense it. _Feel_ it flowing through all living things.

That was how Alcida-Auka sensed the life form at the base of the island now. Outsiders had been few and far between during her lifetime, and even less common during her mother's time as matron. She had believed the wretched human girl would be the last Outsider she attended before her eldest daughter inherited her position, so the unknown presence in the cave was unexpected to say the least.

Usually, the arrival of Outsiders was heralded by the din of their modern transport technologies startling the wildlife and spewing contaminants into the ocean. The worst of their visitors had no reservations about ditching their spacecrafts into the rocky coves around the base of the island, or worse, setting them alight and leaving the charred, twisted remains for the Lanai to clear up. This made the stranger's silent arrival all the more unusual.

The blowhole that had formed at the bottom of the island was shrouded in darkness, but Alcida-Auka was pleased to find that the presence in the cave was not malevolent. She sensed that the Current was strong with them, flowing with light from their unconscious form. This was most unusual.

Still, Alcida-Auka had learned enough. She shook the remnants of sleep from her mind, and set about rousing the other Caretakers. For as long as the Lanai lived on the island, they would do their duty, following in the footsteps of the ancestors who had gone before them. They would prepare food and lodgings for the Outsider as required, but right now, the stranger needed their help.

\---

He came to with a jolt, clinging to a vague echo of soft light in some all-consuming shadow as it swiftly rushed away from him. The distant sound of wind in long grass, the crash of waves on craggy rocks, and the call of some unknown seabird filled his burgeoning consciousness. With some effort, he opened his eyes.

Stone piled on stone piled on stone towered around him in a dome-like structure. It was cool and dark, save for the beam of sunlight streaming in through a hole in the corbeled walls of the ancient abode. He gingerly pushed himself up from an unsophisticated bed, straining against the ache in his bones to swing his legs onto the floor. Screwing his eyes shut, he waited for the spots in his vision and the ringing in his ears to subside, feeling his heart pound in his chest as it laboured to deliver much needed blood to his brain. He was hurting _everywhere._ Finally, he looked down at himself and examined the dirt beneath his overgrown fingernails, the rough blanket draped over his naked form, the rudimentary splint secured to his ankle – and found that he had no recollection of anything at all.

Panic bubbled in his chest as he grappled to find some purchase in his mind – any shred of memory that he could grasp onto – and was swiftly rewarded with a sharp pain which bloomed behind his eyes and turned his vision white. Clapping one hand to his forehead, he gripped the rocks beneath him with the other, attempting to steady himself as his world turned upside down. His thoughts flailed uselessly around the shapeless void in his mind, and he imagined that his head might burst open.

Compelled by some unknown instinct, he sought out the strange birdsong he had heard lifetimes ago. Identifying its shrill shriek carrying on the wind, he clung to it like it was a lifeline, his anchor to the real world. The call, at first distant and weak, grew loud and strong, gently pulling him from the depths of his panic. His ragged breaths echoed around him, at once disorienting and grounding him. Beneath his fingers, cold stone refused to yield, and he could almost imagine it as an extension of himself, reaching down into the earth beneath his feet. Slowly but surely, his breathing steadied, and the outside rushed back in – along with an overwhelming, _unsettling_ sense of calm.

Perturbed, his eyes snapped open. The hair on the back of his neck bristled as the stray chips of stone around his feet scattered wildly across the floor, and he jumped up with a curse, gathering the blanket around him. His ankle protested against his weight, but he could not resist the sudden urge to flee the stone hut. Tentatively, he limped out into the sunlight, gulping in the damp bracing air and tasting salt on his tongue. Squinting against the bright rays, the world slowly came into focus and his breath hitched in his throat.

Before him, a vast ocean was an array of colours, glittering in the sunlight and disturbed only by green islands jutting purposefully towards the sky. Above him stretched endless blue, lit by binary stars which loomed overhead, casting a short shadow at his feet. Around him, a stone settlement of huts identical to his own encircled a grassy clearing, teetering at the edge of a cliff face which plunged towards the crashing waves below. Behind him, he counted stone steps climbing endlessly towards the crest of the rocky mound. He made a mental note not to attempt scaling them until his ankle had recovered.

Taking in his surroundings, he felt a peculiar prickle at the back of his mind – that this place was familiar somehow, that he had seen it before. He wondered on it fleetingly before banishing the thought as his migraine threatened to flare once more. He would avoid _that_ experience again wherever possible.

Leaning on the fragile stone walls for support, he carefully descended the steps at the front of his hut and approached the cliff face. Looking down towards the steely blue water which frothed below, a shudder ran down his spine – it was a long way to fall. He hastily turned back towards the settlement, pondering whether he should search the other huts for any sign of life, when, as if on cue, a gaggle of short amphibian creatures with smooth grey skin and narrow birdlike feet appeared seemingly from nowhere. Dressed in off white habits and equipped with all sorts of tools, they conversed in an unfamiliar lilting tongue which fell silent when they laid shrewd, dark eyes on his figure.

Utterly bewildered, he did not know if he should bow or flee as an older specimen shuffled forward to examine him. Her face was weatherworn and wrinkled as she peered up at him, but she did not appear surprised to see him standing there – nor remotely perturbed by the blankets he was self-consciously clutching around his waist. With a nod of her head, she turned and shuffled away from him, gesturing for him to follow as she babbled along in their unknown language. Merely grateful for the proof that he wasn't alone on this rock, he trailed behind her dutifully as her companions set to work brushing the stone steps and tending the old walls.

The old creature led him to one of the huts and turned towards him expectantly. He looked at her dumbly, until she cocked her head towards the wooden door with a squeaky exclamation. He started and, not wanting to offend his new acquaintances, rushed forward as best he could with an ankle he was now quite sure was broken.

He stepped inside out of the sunlight and waited for his eyes to adjust, revealing row upon row of stone shelves, carefully arranged with handwoven kelp baskets. Judging from their bleached appearance, some were distinctly older than others, but each contained various garments and trinkets which he did not recognise. Looking back, he found that the matron had returned to take up tasks with her companions. Chewing on his lip, he cautiously stepped forward to examine the baskets, moving slowly for fear of damaging the artefacts which had been reverently placed in storage here.

From the newer baskets, he picked out a handful of new clothes for himself, shimmying into them as fast as he could within the privacy of the repository. He did not know who these garments belonged to, but he was shivering despite the sunshine. Looking at the weather beaten rockface and luscious green grass, he guessed that this place was not always blessed with such pleasant weather so, along with some tunics and trousers, he gathered two thick cloaks, a pair of waterproof boots, and a leathery poncho. They would not be a perfect fit, but this hut of treasures was an unexpected luxury.

As he made to leave, he noticed a walking stick resting atop the basket nearest to the door. Thinking of his ankle, he pulled the basket down to gaze upon its contents. It was significantly better stocked than some of the other baskets, containing all sorts of oddities including a grooming box, some kind of navigational device, and a peculiar crystal pendant. However, what really drew his eye was the silver cylindrical device nestled amongst a set of cream robes. Inexplicably, helplessly drawn to the gadget, he reached to pick it up.

His fingers had barely made contact with the cool metal before searing pain shot through his skull. Green light flashed behind his eyes, and the echo of some long-forgotten voice rang in his ears. The moment passed so quickly he couldn't even be sure it had been real, but nevertheless, he found himself gripping the stone shelf so hard his knuckles turned white, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. Shot to the core with a fear that bewildered him, he grabbed the grooming box and the stick, and unceremoniously shoved the basket back where it belonged.

He could have sworn he had been in the repository for only heartbeats, but he exited to soft golden light which cast long shadows behind the huts and realised sunset was upon him. With the help of his new stick, he made his way across the now empty clearing towards what he supposed was his home for the foreseeable future.

Upon entering the hut, his heart clenched at the sight of a fire crackling away. The dirty blankets of his makeshift bed had been cleaned and left to dry in the heat of the flames, and replaced with fresh linens. A plate of salted fish and dried kelp was perched on a stool, accompanied by a bottle of green liquid. On the floor sat a bucket of clean water, warmed by the heat of the fire, and a washcloth. Despite himself, he found that he was completely overcome with emotion, even if the food looked less than appetising.

Scrambling back towards the door, he yelled a thank you to nobody in particular, knowing that his new friends probably wouldn't understand him, but unable to help himself. His voice cracked horribly from disuse and he cringed as it echoed back to him around the cliffs, reminding him of his current condition and bringing with it a thousand more questions that made his brain ache. There was much to think about, but for now, he would eat and he would rest.

\---

The following days passed without incident. Each morning, he awoke late and enjoyed the breakfast delivered by his companions in the sunshine. As he ate, he watched them potter around the village, pulling weeds from between the ancient slabs, cleaning his clothes in wooden washbowls, and scaling fish on the stone steps. He wanted to help – to give his hands something to do if nothing else – but they were settled into a practised routine that he didn't dare impose himself on. With time, perhaps they would welcome him into the fold, but for now, he contented himself with listening to their chatter as they worked. Even though he couldn't understand a word they were saying, he was simply happy for the company.

After they left for the evening, he watched the sunset from his perch outside the hut, counting the stars as they appeared above him. He watched and he waited, wondering whether somebody was supposed to come back for him – whether somebody had forgotten him. When his head started to hurt and his body began to ache, he retreated into the warmth of his hut, eating his dinner in silence before drifting off into a long, dreamless sleep.

The routine quickly became tiresome. It was almost exciting when, seven sunrises later, he awoke to cloud cover, a brisk wind, and the chance of rain. He dressed in warmer attire, and made his way out onto the steps.

As usual, he watched the caretakers (as he'd come to call them) complete their tasks before, too soon, they packed away their things and disappeared up the long stone stairway which curved away from the huts and out of sight. He longed to follow them, to see what was beyond the village, but there was no way he would make it to the top of the hill in his state. As the last tiny figure vanished beyond the peak, he sighed and turned to look at the heaving grey mass that was the ocean. He eyed the distant islands silhouetted against the gloom and wondered for the first time whether this, too, was an island.

He was struck by how little he knew – about _anything._ Indeed, there were only a few things he understood for certain.

First, he was injured – _badly._ Alongside his broken ankle, he counted five or six broken ribs, a number of contusions along his torso, and the lingering effects of a concussion. In fact, most of his body – surprisingly muscular though it was – was battered and bruised in some manner.

Second, he couldn't remember a thing about his life before waking up in the hut. Not even his own _name_. Attempting to recall anything earlier than the week before brought migraines that were so intensely painful that he was forced to abandon the exercise each and every time he tried.

Everything else was an unknown. He didn't know anything about the land he found himself on and, as long as his ankle was recovering, he had no hope of exploring it in search of answers. Thus, he concluded that he had no choice but to wait for his body to heal before he could do anything at all.

Thankfully, for whatever reason, there were people who were willing to care for him. He would not be short of food and rest to aid his healing, and that was reassuring. However, it also left him with plenty of time to think – but what could he think about if he couldn't remember anything prior to seven days ago? Then again, he didn't _really_ know how many days he had been here. The significant stubble around his chin told him that the past version of himself had been clean shaven, so he must have been unconscious for a few days at least. Aside from that, he had the strange impression that time flowed differently here.

The prospect of the long weeks ahead, confined to his hut with nothing to think about but all the things he didn't know, made his heart sink. Right now, the future was looking bleak. He felt instants away from a panic attack at any given moment, and he knew he would have to keep his mind busy if he was to avoid spiralling into despair.

So what would he do with himself if he couldn't explore his surroundings, he couldn't communicate with the natives, and he couldn't exercise his body?

As though the clouds overhead sensed his defeat, a few spits of rain started to fall onto the stone slabs with a gentle patter. His reverie broken, he looked up at the darkening sky with disdain. The breeze had picked up, whipping his dark hair into his eyes, so he hauled himself to his feet with the help of his stick, not wanting to get caught in the approaching storm. As he turned back towards the huts, a thought struck him.

He had retrieved the bare essentials from the repository, but there were baskets upon baskets of untold treasures stored there. The storm on the horizon looked fierce, and he could be holed up in his hut for some days. More than that, some dormant part of his brain that he didn't dare to interrogate thirsted for knowledge (perhaps he had been a scholar in his former life?) and he felt quite certain that answers lay within the confines of the stone hut. As far as he could tell, nobody else had touched the place in years, so who would bother if he took a few items for his personal entertainment?

He glanced around the clearing, ensuring that he was alone. He didn't think that his creature companions would mind, considering it was their leader who showed him the repository in the first place, but he still felt sheepish about rifling through the belongings of people who he had since realised had probably died here.

For a horrible moment, he wondered whether all that remained of him would one day be packaged into one of those neat little baskets, too.

\---

He started at the back where some of the baskets were so old that he thought they might fall apart when he touched them. He spent longer than he needed to, giving each basket more time and attention than their contents demanded.

There were more useless trinkets (medallions, crystals, signet rings, stones, pendants, and peculiar polyhedrons that he could make neither head nor tail of) than he knew what to do with. He was mystified by their place on this strange rock, but ultimately, they were of little value to him.

He found more of the cylindrical devices, too, each different to the last and crafted in a variety of materials. Viewing them from afar, he decided that they were weapons of some kind and left them untouched.

Every now and again, he came across ancient tomes and leatherbound notebooks, but most of them were so old that they were illegible – either faded from the passage of time or written in some long-lost language that he couldn't read. The newer baskets contained no such treasures, replaced by antique datapads with power cells that had been dead for centuries.

Here and there, he found ancient writing instruments that he thought he could do something with, but their accompanying inkwells were dry as a bone. He wondered whether the vast ocean might hold creatures from which he could extract ink, but shook away the ridiculous idea as soon as it entered his head.

The storm outside made it difficult to say what time of day it was. The sky overhead was darkening so quickly that he would soon need a light, and the earlier drizzle had developed into heavy raindrops which bounced off the stones, collecting in buckets left out by the caretakers. Somewhere in the distance, the storm groaned and rumbled, mimicking his rapidly deteriorating mood.

His search was proving fruitless. His head was swimming, unaccustomed to such long periods of time spent upright, and his battered body was crying out for a soft place to sit. He fought against them both, determined to find something which would make his suffering worthwhile, but the thunder was getting closer. He knew it wouldn't be long before he had to abandon the search.

Giving in to frustration, he finally turned to the basket near the door – the one he had been avoiding. The silver weapon glinted ominously in the darkness, reflecting the white flashes that had begun to light up the stone courtyard outside. He stared at it in trepidation, swallowing the bile which inexplicably rose in his throat. He realised that it seemed _familiar_ to him somehow, even as the thought shot pain through his skull.

He chewed his lip. Beneath the cream robes on which the weapon sat, there were reading materials – scrolls of parchment secured with lengths of leather cord. He had seen them yesterday and remembered they were here, but his baffling fear of the strange silver instrument had kept him from investigating further until he was left with no choice. He looked out at the storm, getting heavier by the second, and blew out a shaky breath.

Steeling himself, he turned back to the weapon.

'I can do this,' he whispered, his voice rough and his throat sore. Before he could change his mind, his hand shot out to retrieve the weapon.

Once more, green light flooded his vision, and a horrified voice rattled around his mind. It screamed a name which he had already forgotten by the time the silver object fell from his hand and clattered to the stone floor. Breathless, he staggered back in terror. He thought he might vomit, either from fear or from pain. Perhaps it was both.

He raised a shaking hand to his face and realised he was _crying._ Disgusted by his cowardice, he wiped away the tears with more force than necessary, and snatched the scrolls of parchment from the basket. He looked down at the weapon, lying still on the stone floor, and decided it could stay there. He tucked the scrolls into the safety of his waterproof poncho, and stomped out into the storm as angrily as he could with a walking stick and a broken ankle.

He did not look back, but if he had, he might have seen the old man who stood in the entrance to the repository, staring after him with eyes full of longing and sorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did the Lanai transport a naked Ben Solo from the cave to the hut? I'll leave that to your imagination...
> 
> [Alcida-Auka](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Alcida-Auka)
> 
> [Lanai](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lanai)
> 
> [Uneti tree](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Uneti_tree)
> 
> The 'Current' is just what I imagine the Lanai call the Force, and the repository is mentioned in the novelisation of The Last Jedi.


End file.
